


getaway car

by elisu



Category: Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Based on 365 Fresh - Triple H, Other, Partners in Crime, Teleportation, Time Skips, unintentional murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisu/pseuds/elisu
Summary: If we go from here, it begins with a girl in a barber’s shop.
Relationships: Kim Hyojong | Dawn & Kim Hyuna & Lee Hwitaek | Hui
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	getaway car

**Author's Note:**

  * For [occultclysms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/occultclysms/gifts).



> to noah: happy birthday and happy halloween! i love and appreciate you dearly, and wish you nothing but joy and fulfillment. enjoy this rather self-indulgent triple h fic and enjoy being seventeen!!!
> 
> ADDITIONAL WARNINGS: murder/violence, alcohol, mentions of death and suicide

lht   
/

If we go from here, it begins with a girl in a barber’s shop. Fresh-faced, doe-eyed, any passer-by would be so foolish to think that she was the most innocent person in the world. There are only so many human behaviours one’s mind can choose from when confronted with the face of danger— and, well, doing something terrible tends to have that effect on people when they commit a crime for the first time. But never mind the past, what matters is the now. And never mind what she did— it’d be too much paperwork. 

If we go from here, Hyuna would have to tell you with a stammering voice and shaking hands that she’d killed a man. Never mind the fact that he was asking for it— what matters is the way she’d done it with a tiny barber’s razor. That’s what Hui thinks, at least. He’s seen it all in his ten years of dabbling in the likes of crime and indecency, but a petite, red-haired little lady pacing the back alleys of Seoul with blood on her hands falls upon the less-common end of the spectrum. 

But Hui doesn’t make her tell. Just gestures to the empty passenger’s seat of the stolen white car (she doesn’t know it’s stolen yet) when she runs out onto the middle of the road. 

There’s some kind of exchange that occurs between them in the moment they first lock eyes. Behind the fearful disposition and guilt that stains her knees Hui knows the girl’s been through more than would be considered normal. From behind the windscreen Hui knows she can tell he’s no good, either. This makes them even. (If you take off your glasses and tilt your head to the side). This makes them the same. 

How desperate can this chick get? Is what Hui thinks to himself, when he gestures nonchalantly to the passenger’s seat next to him and she wastes no time in scurrying in like a rodent on the run from a violent housecat. How much must she hate herself? 

“I’m Hyuna,” she says quietly, gripping the blood-soaked handkerchief he’s handed her like her life depends on it. Hui knows better than to doubt that it does. “And I’ve done something terrible.”

They’re in the considerably quieter part of the city— the grit and grime of urban sprawl painting the streetlights and just-about-empty roads with a muted monotone glow, and the edges of suburbia creeping in like a bad smell. 

Hui ignores the smell of blood that’s starting to settle in the car. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before and it’s nothing he’ll never see again. “Me too,” he drawls. 

Hyuna smiles a lipstick-framed smile, white teeth gleaming far too bright for those of a dirty criminal. “Your name is Hyuna?”

Well, at least this girl’s got a sense of humour. (How good it is is yet to be discovered, but he’ll take what he can get). Hui rolls his eyes and puts on a mocking tone. “Yeah, it is,” he replies in a bitingly sarcastic sing-song voice. 

She’s silent, and when Hui turns his gaze over to the passenger’s seat he finds her still smiling. Perhaps distracting her from the terrible deed at hand has comforted her a little. It’s a nice sentiment, until she stares emptily at the road in front of them, shaky lips forming the words, “How long until they find me and lock me up?” The question bounces around the five-seater car, making loops around their heads and bouncing off the fake leather before worming its way out the sliver of opened window and slipping free into the cold night air. 

This time it’s Hui turn to keep quiet. Not because he doesn’t know, but not because he wants to keep the answer from her, either. 

“I go by many names,” he says, finally. They make a right turn and drive straight ahead, down the same old roads that go nowhere in particular. “You can call me Hui, if you’d like.”

“Hui,” she repeats, sounding out the name slowly like a child learning a word for the first time. “Hui.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs. There’s a shabbily-dressed man limping drunkenly down the sidewalk, bleached hair tossed over the side of his face messily like shredded illegal documents. So they’re in that side of town. 

Hui hears Hyuna mouth the opening notes to the comment she’s about to make, but doesn’t get to hear the rest of it. Doesn’t care to either, because in that moment, the said drunken man stumbles onto the road and throws himself in front of their car. 

The both of them cry out as he slams his foot on the brakes— her an ‘oh, fuck,’ that sounds relatively polite in comparison to the conglomerate of profanities that spills from his unholy lips. 

khn   
/

She can’t help but be fascinated by the sheer fearlessness that resides in the stranger’s face as he jeers maddeningly at the starless night sky, lying on the middle-of-the-road asphalt like he truly does believe in forever. 

Even when Hui stamps over to where he’s lying and picks up a fight with him— both verbal and with his fists, Hyuna sees the way his head lolls back on his neck, the way his hair’s flopped all over the place like he’s some type of abandoned ragdoll. Maybe this man has a death wish. Maybe he laughs in the face of danger and lives like every moment is his last. She’s mesmerised. 

“Do you have a death wish?” Hyuna can hear Hui yelling, as he fists the collar of the man’s shirt. They’re both potential roadkill now, but the street is just about empty and the odds are low, so Hyuna runs out too, in an attempt to do something to tear Hui off of the stranger. 

Somehow she succeeds and somehow he ends up getting in the car with them. 

lht   
/ 

Now, going from there doesn’t mean that Hyuna’s little mishap is where it all truly begins. Why we’re in Seoul in the first place? Well, that begins with a back-alley gang chase in the streets of Hong Kong. 

Why Hui is on the run from an uncomfortable number of Cantonese criminals in the first place is neither important nor in his best interests to reveal. What’s really fun is the chase. 

Hui’s always considered himself a bit of a Peter Rabbit in this sense— petty crime just for the thrill of it, dancing en pointe around the feathered skirts of danger because he knows that at the end of the day, as close as he gets to the wrath of Farmer McGregor, he’ll always be able to slip under the fence in the nick of time. 

He jumps deftly over a stack of rice crates and kicks them behind him at his pursuers— a trick he’d learnt from his fair share of crime films, and then proceeds to make a swift left turn into the maze of narrow alleyways. “Catch me if you can,” he grunts, under his breath in questionably-enunciated Cantonese. 

As it turns out, the gang gets pretty close to doing so. 

Hui’s met with a dead end, and threatening-looking men on all sides. Just as he’d planned. 

He holds his arms up on either side of his head, a sly smirk plastering itself across his face. Perhaps Hui is not a rabbit, but a fox. “Oh no,” he shouts patronisingly. “You’ve got me.”

The men look to each other, confused, and then at him again. “What?” One of them says. 

Drat. He must have pronounced that wrong. Why in the world must Cantonese have so many intonations? 

Hui opens his mouth to attempt the line again, then decidedly shuts it. It’s less cool the second time, after all, even if the first time was poorly executed. Before he has time to do anything else, the men lunge at him from all directions and the fun begins. 

He digs his feet into the same spot he’s memorised— the one hidden in plain sight on the concrete floor, and in a split second he’s gone. 

She really is like a child, is what Hui thinks to himself when they’ve stopped at a service station some several hours out from the city. They’ve been driving all night and Hyuna had fallen asleep serenely in the car, leaving Hui and the stranger alone to avoid eye contact with each other and sit in silence. Such a task is not particularly difficult considering Hui should be keeping his eyes on the road at all times anyways, however a thousand miles of the same dotted white line is an invitation for distraction. 

“So,” the stranger says, leaning over to the front. Of course, he’s not got a seatbelt on, but that’s a given. “You from around here?”

“I’m from nowhere,” Hui says, staring hard at the highway in front of them. 

“Well, you can call me Hyojong,” Hyojong says with a smile that’s sticky like tar, reaching over a hand for Hui to shake. Hui ignores the gesture. “I won’t,” he replies, cold. 

“Aw, come on. I’m sorry about last night. We all do stupid things when we’re drunk, don’t we?”

Hyuna stirs at the sound of talking. She turns her gaze to Hyojong, whom she finds sticking his head right near her seat and reacts with an acute display of startledness, then shuffles over to give him (herself) more space. 

Hui rolls his eyes and lets a scowl tint his face. "Look, I've been driving you two around all night and if I don't want to answer your stupid questions, I won't," he says. After a short pause he then spits, "... Hyojong." 

Hyojong sits back against the car seat with a triumphant smile on his face. Hui gets out of the car to pay for petrol. 

"I'm going out to stretch my legs," Hyuna says into the silence, opening the car door and stepping out onto the weathered concrete.

The air out here is clearer than that in the city— the pollution and fine dust that hangs like a blanket over Hyuna's every waking day is now nowhere to be seen. She extends her arms out from her sides and lets the wind pick up the hem of her thin shawl like feathers. How she wishes she could be picked up too, with the birds gliding across the sky. How limitless they must feel. How free. 

Hyuna's running away from the law now, too. She's one of them now. And maybe the fact that someday her home will be a room behind bars will sink in sooner or later, but for now it hasn't. For now she feels nothing at all. 

Hyojong sits on the curb just outside the petrol station, counting the cracks in the pavement with his eyes and smiling over nothing every now and then. Hui leaves the car too, to pay for the gas and-- they discover as he exits the small mart, a bag of strawberry jellies so luridly coloured they look radioactive. 

“I wonder if this thing’s got a spare tyre,” Hyuna hears Hui mutter to himself under his breath as he returns. Well, she thinks. Should’ve known he wasn’t the type to buy his own car. 

Then she hears the click of a trunk opening, and soon after, a shocked, “Fuck me, no way.”

Hyuna expects plane tickets to be involved when Hui suggests Paris. 

He’s called them over to see the countless wads of hundred dollar bills packed tightly into the trunk of the car and turns to them both with a glint in his eye. 

Any normal person would assume he’d meant plane tickets. 

“Okay, so on the count of three you guys close your eyes, okay? No screaming, no opening the doors, no nothing,” Hui says to them, deadpan. They’re still in that industrial portion of the city, the barbed wire fences and train tracks their only scenery outside the four walls of the stolen white five-seater. 

The other two murmur in agreement, Hyuna already covering the top half of her face with her hands. Hui rolls his eyes. 

“Three…” he starts, and then stops. He slams his foot on the accelerator and drives forward. 

Hyuna parts her fingers and peeks through the gap. They’re driving into a wall. She screams, and Hui really wishes she wouldn’t, because Hyojong’s opened his eyes too and is frantically trying to open the window. 

Luckily, Hui isn’t sensitive to high-pitched noises and locked the windows in advance. They hit the wall with a thud and after several moments, Hyuna stops yelling. Hui rolls his eyes again. “You can look now,” he says. 

“You didn’t count down from three!” Hyojong exclaims, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“I would have assumed you were able to count from three yourself at your big age,” Hui replies with a smile.

“It’s nighttime now,” Hyuna says, quiet. 

“It tends to do that in Paris.”

Hui leans back into the car seat, resting his neck flat against the headrest. They’re on a rooftop somewhere in the middle of the city. The sky is completely black from all the light pollution but if he squints hard enough, the bright windows flickering all over the skyline and faintly dotted outline of the Eiffel Tower in the distance-- they can look like constellations. 

Paris, baby!

It’s been a while. 

Hyojong doesn’t want to be here, or anywhere, for that matter. He’s never been one for these kinds of environments. Tight skirts and dangerously high heels and the drinks and the drugs. And whatnot. 

Either way he’s here, the bass rumbling so loudly he can feel it in his throat and the dim neon lights making everything seem like a vaguely purple-tinted lucid dream. Hyuna’s drunk out of her mind at the bar next to him, although he’s not surprised if that was what she was trying to do in the first place. He stares at his own glass, rippling every now and then to the beat-- yes the music is that loud. It remains mostly untouched tonight. 

So far it’s only been about three hours in this city but they've managed to spend an eye-watering amount of money on ‘a change of clothes’ and alcohol. Hyojong’s a little dazed, if he’s going to be completely honest. He has no idea how they got here in the first place or who Hui really is. He’ll be damned, if things went to plan Hyojong would be dead by now. 

But he’s not. 

He’s here. In Paris. Trying to keep Hyuna from blacking out any second and pretend that the kiss she planted on the side of his mouth isn’t still burning into his skin, stronger than any type of whisky. 

Hui is nowhere to be seen, presumably picking someone’s pockets just for the fun of it. 

Hyojong thinks about the jacket on his shoulders. Hui’s. He doesn’t even remember why he’s wearing his clothes. Thinks about all the money they’re spending tonight. If Hui stole the car from someone else in Seoul, and the money was already stolen-- his head hurts from all the thinking. Nothing’s making sense tonight. 

His last shred of survival instinct fires up in his fists when he feels an arm around him. Hyojong jolts around to see Hui. “I’ve got some good news,” he says, leaning on the counter between Hyuna and Hyojong and tipping Hyojong’s shot down his throat. 

“We’re going to heaven,” Hyuna slurs against his arm.

“We can go home now?” Hyojong suggests. 

“Kind of and kind of,” Hui says, patting them both and gently dragging Hyuna’s half-limp body onto his back. “The cops are onto us. Don’t look now, but…” Hui leans in. “Run!”

And without any sort of countdown, they sprint back upstairs, two steps at a time to the rooftop. The party goes on as per usual as if this is the type of thing that happens often. Hyojong reckons it probably does. He can hear footsteps-- fast ones, behind them as Hui fumbles with the door. 

Once he gets it open, they’re out in the night again and Hyojong feels the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. 

Hui unlocks the car and shuffles Hyuna into the backseat. The movement seems to have woken her up, because by the time they’ve all gotten into the car she’s slightly more sobered. 

“So, where to next?” She says sleepily, as the sound of sirens in the background only grows louder. 

Hui grins and starts up the car. He’s looking straight ahead, and Hyojong knows this can only mean one thing. He buckles his seatbelt tight. 

“It’s a surprise.”

**Author's Note:**

> they do not die btw. not if you don't want them to


End file.
